Prestige Academy 1: Book Of Spells Read online

  Prestige Academy 1

  Book of Spells

  S L H

  S L H

  Copyright © 2020 by S L H

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover By

  Melody Simmons

  Dedication

  To my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,

  my mother, Cornella

  And my dear friend, Giulia.

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  Welcome to The Academy

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  2. Ayanna

  3. Hunter

  4. Ayanna

  5. Hunter

  6. Ayanna

  7. Hunter

  8. Ayanna

  9. Hunter

  10. Ayanna

  11. Hunter

  12. Ayanna

  13. Ayanna

  14. Hunter

  15. Ayanna

  16. Hunter

  17. Hunter

  18. Ayanna

  19. Hunter

  20. Ayanna

  21. Hunter

  22. Ayanna

  23. Hunter

  24. Ayanna

  25. Hunter

  26. Hunter

  27. Hunter

  28. Ayanna

  29. Hunter

  30. Ayanna

  31. Ayanna

  32. Ayanna

  33. Hunter

  Prestige Academy Series

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  Also by S L H

  One

  It was Harvest Moon night, and I was in the midst of a celebration…a spectacle…a riot. Darkness surrounded me, and for a brief moment, everything was still. The rapidness of my breathing only added to my dizziness—the calm before the storm.

  I opened my eyes.

  An explosion of noises bombarded my senses, as an army of students in opposing colours clashed all around me. Bodies smashed together, muddled with cheers and jeers from bystanders. Toilet paper rolls tossed all around, and handheld horns blasted into the air.

  Chaos erupted on the estate of Prestige Academy, and all I could do was stare. Am I the cause of all this madness? Absolutely. Tensions were already high at the outdoor wrestling match when I triggered the frenzy, which seemed to be in no hurry to settling down.

  Breaking away from the mob was easy enough, why couldn’t everything else be so simple? My hopes were high on the first day of school. Now, I was running into the forest like an animal led on a leash. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Unfortunately, there were no do-overs. Instead, I am left to replay the events that led up to this moment, and wonder if there is any way for me to fix this.

  Two

  Ayanna

  They say history repeats itself. I pray they are wrong, which is why I’m here. I want, no I need a fresh start—a way to escape my memories. I rubbed my fingers over the scaly textured scab of my palms, and then made a fist. Hopefully, this is the moment of a new beginning. So why do I have an eerie feeling my past is lurking somewhere in the background, waiting to jump out and devour me?

  The morning light lingered on my back, promising to darken my exposed skin. My body instinctively sucked in all the rays as if the sun was my mother, and I was a nursing infant. As a child, I’d tell anyone who listened fire, not blood, circulated throughout my veins. My dad would laugh at my absurd imagination while my mom would hush any such talk in public. Certain things were only for my mom and I to discuss, and not for others, not even my father.

  I'm a fire witch with magic bubbling inside of me, yet I was raised to suppress my instinct to let it overflow. Growing up, I read comic books about superheroes discovering their powers as teenagers. That was never me. As a cradle witch, I was born with my magic. Once I turn 16, I’ll be able to renounce it. At that point, I'll be like everyone else. I'll be normal. Examining the circular pink scab in the middle of my palms, I rubbed my fingers over it before making a fist so no one could see my scars.

  Soon there will be no more hiding.

  I stood on one of the many long winding trails, which I hoped led to the steps of my new private boarding school. I was in awe of the massive compound. The photos on the invitation I received in the mail, did not do the property justice. There were several stony paths that went in various directions towards different facilities on campus. It was all so intimidating and it’s only been 3 minutes. My knees began to shake so I walked along the trail to hide my apprehension.

  The winds rushed around me and I swore they felt different compared to the winds back home. I stood on one of the many long winding trails, which I guessed led to the steps of the school.

  Prestige Academy was a private institution for privileged children, located in rural Nova Scotia, and I’m a black girl from the inner city of Toronto. The upper crust of the country decided to demonstrate their charity by offering an outsider a full scholarship. Based on my academics, I made the cut. I can mingle with the teenagers of the wealthy, powerful, and most distinguished of this world.

  "…So, I told her, I'll rip out her trashy extensions!"

  I was jolted out of my thoughts by the two uniformed students who passed.

  "But aren't you afraid she'll rip out yours?"

  "I hate her so much, I'm willing to take that risk."

  Threats of extension pulling on the first day of school? If my eyes were closed, I'd swear I was still at Rexdale High. My expression must have looked jarring because the girl with the trashy extensions, stopped short in front of me and glared.

  "Problem?" she asked, with her brunette friend a step behind her. Her provoking stance alone would trigger an immediate beat down in my old neighbourhood.

  Problem? I could list a page filled with problems to counter back, all of them insulting. Was I really about to get into a brawl with a classmate before I set foot in my new school? I'm already the only black student at Prestige, the last thing I want to do is add angry black student to my transfer form. Plus, I left all that fighting mess in Toronto. No sense in starting my new school with old school problems.

  Instead, I swallowed hard…really hard and forced a smile. "Actually, today is my first day here. I was told to go to the lobby. Where would that be?" I put on that voice. The one that garnered a "you speak so well" from certain groups. It always worked like a charm—immediate de-escalation.

  The blonde's demeanour changed as she straightened up and returned my smile. "You're headed in the right direction. Just follow the path to the end and go straight up the stairs. There, you should find a tour guide to assist you."

  What do you know? I still got it—immediate de-escalation.

  "Thanks," I said, as the teens continued on their way in a completely different route. They whispered, looking back at me as I stayed on the path and eventually stood at the Academy steps.

  The school resembled a castle. Just beholding it was daunting. Running back to dad’s car did cross my mind. Too bad he’s long gone. Plus, the gates were locked behind me, and they were the kind of gates that were impossible to scale. A sense of dread and anxiousness were threatening to take over. The back of my hand wiped away a bead of sweat from my forehead. I grew up around the criminality of the inner city, surviving a bougie place like this should be effortless. Right? Before I could think otherwise, I quickly jogged up the stairs toward the building's large open doors. Not only did I stand out amongst the crowd because of my dark skin tone, bu
t I was also in my civvies. I wore a white top and a casual pair of yellow shorts with my spiral curly hair down.

  Looking around the entrance, I was taken aback by the massive doorway. It was like walking into a museum, and I half expected to find dinosaur skeletons on the inside. I must have looked like a tourist because people were obviously staring at me as though I were some ancient relic of the past. Instead of dinosaurs, I was the one on display in the exhibit.

  "Hi. Are you looking for someone?"

  A classy bright blonde student stood at the doorway with a clipboard pressed against her hip. Instantly, I was captivated by her flawless smile and lively voice. She was wearing a white polo shirt and knee-high socks to go with her kilt. Her hair was tied in an elegant bun, resting on the top of her head. We were the same height, though her frame was thin.

  "I'm sorta looking for someone. I'm a new student. Today is my first day. I was told to report to the foyer for a tour of the estate."

  Her hazel eyes brightened as she bounced on her toes in delight. The black ballet style shoes looked so comfy on her tiny feet. "Oh! Well, you're in the right place. I'm a part of the Welcome Committee." She rolled her eyes in a humble brag sort of way as she touched her small chest. "As a cheerleader, it comes naturally."

  Of course, she’s a cheerleader—either that or a ballerina.

  "Ayayayayayayaya!"

  I jumped in response to the shrieking noise coming from a greenish-blue bird I didn't notice was there. It was perched on a bird stand, walking along the length of its staff. If she told me that sound was the fire alarm, I'd believe it.

  My tour guide muffled a laugh at my reaction. "That's Shield, the parrot. He's our former school mascot."

  "Former?"

  "Yes, now that he's getting up there in age, he was promoted to the Welcoming Committee."

  The Academy promotes mascots? What a life!

  She stroked the bird with a gentle hand, and he revelled at her touch, dipping his head down for her fingers to scratch more of his head. "Say hi, Shield."

  "Ayayayayayayaya!"

  I waved, feeling silly, but it was a cute looking bird. I think Shield smiled at me.

  "He can't see you."

  Maybe not. "Oh." I sheepishly lowered my hand.

  "He's blind in one eye. Use your other hand to wave."

  I did as she suggested and waved again, but I couldn't be too sure Shield saw me.

  Tapping her pen to the clipboard, she asked, "Name?"

  "Ayanna Parkinson."

  "You're Ayanna!" Her mouth hung open with every syllable spoken while she scrutinized every inch of me. "I was expecting someone…"

  She caught herself as her voice trailed off, but I couldn't let her totally drop her sentence. Not when she was getting to the good part. I prompted her to continue, "Yes?"

  After some hesitation, she said, "Well, the other day when Headmaster Van Duke said I would be escorting Ayanna around, I pictured…tall, foreign accent, bleached-blonde hair, with a killer tan from spending her summer lying around on a yacht."

  I snorted at her detailed description. She got the killer tan part right. "I'm the complete opposite of what you imagined. I'm just a regular student."

  "You're hardly regular. You’re a strong young woman. In fact, you’ll add some much-needed flavour to our school." She grabbed my arm and held on tight. "Flavour. Was that offensive?"

  I stifled a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not shy. I'll let you know when you're offensive. Right now, I find you amusing."

  "I'll have you know, I did a project last year about the runaway slaves of the Underground Railroad. That must be why the Headmaster picked me to give you the tour. I know all about the plight of African-Americans."

  African-Americans? She was so proud in her wrongness, I almost let it slide. Almost. "I'm not African-American. I was born here."

  Her eyes became as small as the heads of two pins. "So, what does that make you?"

  "The same as you."

  Her face went blank.

  "Canadian," I clarified.

  She shook her head adamantly. "That doesn't sound right." Tapping the bottom of her lip with her pen, she asked, "What about African-Canadian?"

  On account of my father's Jamaican background and my mother's distant Jamaican heritage, African-Canadian wouldn't work either. "My family's Jamaican."

  "Which…makes…you…" She puckered her lips and used the pen to scratch her scalp.

  Poor confused girl. That’s the same face I make when I’m multiplying fractions.

  "Ayayayayayayaya!" The bird alarm went off again as I covered my ears with my hands.

  "Shut that bird up!" Someone shouted from the steps below.

  "You shut up!" she yelled back, sounding as loud as the parrot. Cheerleading must have helped with her voice projection. Her face was flushed as she smoothed out her shirt and patted the back of her hair, making sure every strand was in place. "Excuse my outburst in response to my classmate. This Academy may be called Prestige, but you will soon find that some of the students fall short."

  Something tells me she's not including her outburst in that statement.

  "Anyway, what's most important is you made it here safely." She attached her pen to the clipboard. "Follow me while I show you around the estate."

  As she led me through the Academy, I kept in step, soaking in the foyer's vastness. Large pictures of, I presumed to be, infamous men, hung on the walls. Had my guide not been walking so fast, I would’ve taken the time to read the names. My curiosity compelled me to seek out subtle details. Instead, I let her go about showing me the official tour without interrupting. I was tempted to ask my companion to pinch me to make sure everything was real.

  "My name is Chrissy Stan-Crosser," she swayed her hand in the air as she spoke. "Since you’re new here, people will only care to know your last name before your first name. It's a status thing."

  Crosser, huh? "Are you by any chance related to the politician Crosser?"

  "Yup, that's my father."

  "He's my Premier. I'm from Toronto, Ontario. Where does the Stan come from?"

  "My mother's great-grandpa started Stan Supplies." She looked so dignified as she spoke, then paused a moment. "I'm not familiar with the Parkinson's."

  "You're not? My family invested heavily in your family's enterprise."

  She perked up.

  "By way of your toilet products. My dad’s a plumber. My parents own their own plumbing business."

  "Franchise?"

  "No, it's the only one in the neighbourhood."

  "How…quaint." If I could find a cup, I'm almost positive she would puke in it. But I'll give it to her, she recovered quickly. We walked along the corridor.

  "Prestige Academy and the Dormitory are as rich in history as it is in students. These structures are roughly 200 years old. They were commissioned by the Middleton’s, one of the wealthiest families in North America. Records for that period are few, so details are lost. All we know is that sometime after the completion of the buildings, there was a fire, and a lot of people died."

  "Is that so?"

  "That's what it says on this page." She waved her clipboard in the air. "Even though we don't know the exact details, one thing is certain, the majority of students here had family who passed through these walls for… generations." Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "It's kinda cool to know my great grandparents roamed these halls."

  I mimicked her sigh and touched the large stones that layered the wall. "Yes. I know what you mean."

  "I'm pretty sure there's never been a plumber in attendance." She forced a smile. "No offence."

  "None taken. Maybe a plumber relative of mine never attended, but a builder has. My mom’s ancestors came to Nova Scotia at the tail end of the 18th century. The Jamaican Maroons, were exiled here. The Maroons were the ones who laid the foundation for this estate for…religious purposes."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. But once construction was completed, The Middleto
n’s used their power to move the Maroons from the homes they built. The Middleton’s lived here for less than a year."

  She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why were they only here for such a small amount of time?"

  "That's when the fire started, and they all perished." I patted the wall. "But the layout remained and was later rebuilt and used for this school."

  She nodded her head slowly, digesting the information. "Wow! You sure know a lot of stuff."

  "When I was younger, my grandma would read me the story from a collection of diaries my family passed down in a book. I'm a bit of a history geek, so I found the tale interesting." I shrugged my shoulders as I pushed up my imaginary pair of glasses.

  "So, you're a geek? I figured you were here on a sports scholarship."

  "I’m not—" I felt a hard impact and collapsed on the floor, face down with a thud. A heavyweight was sprawled out over me, and a medium pair of pliers and duct tape fell next to my head. “Ow!”

  "Oh, sorry," a voice said from above. The boy rolled off of me onto the floor.

  "Leo, you jerk!" Chrissy yelled as she tugged hard on the end of his collar, yanking him to stand up.

  Slowly I rose to my knees, trying to compose myself. Chrissy used her arm to brace me and helped get me on my feet. The guy was about an inch shorter than me with dark hair and brown eyes. Even though he was wearing a uniform, he looked a bit sloppy, with an untucked shirt and a sweaty forehead.